The Tango
by last place
Summary: "Every move they made harmonized perfectly; where Mello went, Matt followed. And that's how it would be from then on." Mello is forced to tango with Matt. One Shot, implied MattxMello.


**A/N:** A short one shot where Mello is forced to dance the tango with Matt. Before, I said I was going to re-write it, but I changed my mind. So, enjoy!

(Hint of MelloxMatt)

* * *

Gym. Mello's least favorite class. Not only did he have to run around like a complete ass, but the gym teacher wouldn't allow him to eat chocolate. Did it make any sense to take away Mello's way of gaining calories while he was losing them? No; it just pissed Mello off. He huffed as the gym teacher waltzed into the room. Her matching track suit only emphasized the fat rolls that stuck out of her stomach. She held her rounded chin high in the air; someone needed to knock her off her high horse.

"Good morning, students," she chirped.

"Good morning, Ms. Monroe," the students chimed.

Mello's stomach gurgled. Great, he was hungry already. This hour was just going to be hell.

"Today we're going to learn how to tango in the traditional Buenos Aires style, since there is a Buenos Aires dance coming up quite soon." She smiled, her large cheeks made her look a bit like a chipmunk. Mello sighed, another dance? A few months ago, they had to learn square dancing, which was quite uncomfortable since no one could dance.

A girl in the front raised her hand. "What's Buenos Aires?"

Mello immediately drowned Ms. Monroe out before she started to talk. He had read about Buenos Aires tango; it was passionate and intense. Something that kids at his age were not. His stomach growled again. Matt glanced over, a small smile appeared on his face. Normally, he had goggles perched over his eyes, but they were in the locker room-just like Mello's chocolate.

Ms. Monroe finally shut her big trap and instructed the boys to go to one side of the room, and the girls the other. "Now, since this we are going to follow the traditional Buenos Aires practice, the boys must dance together and the girls will wait until they're done practicing until they can dance."

The kids exploded, protesting to the unfamiliar idea. Most boys were just starting to notice girls and to have the excuse to touch one was invigorating. Mello's cheeks suddenly flushed as he realized he had to touch someone. He hated human contact; it made him uneasy. He would much rather observe and critique, but that was the bad thing about gym: it was purely hands on.

"Okay, boys, pick a partner and I will teach you the basic steps so that you can lead the girls with ease." The boys all glanced at each other uncomfortably. She clapped her hands, shrieking, "go!"

Hesitantly, Mello turned to Matt. Matt grinned at him and held his hand out. "Care to dance?" he chuckled.

"Fuck you," Mello hissed, taking Matt's hand.

They stood far apart awkwardly as Ms. Monroe began to show the class the moves. It was easy; front, back, side to side. She promised to teach them the embellishments once they had the basic step down. She started to play the music. It was a slow song with a soft rhythm.

"I'll lead," Mello demanded.

Matt placed his hand obediently on Mello's shoulder. Reluctantly, Mello placed his on Matt's waist. He had a tiny waist and Mello wondered if he could snap him in half if he squeezed hard enough. Mello began to step forward. At first, Matt awkwardly followed, studying Mello's movements and how he shifted his body. About halfway through the song, Matt followed him fluidly. Mello was pleasantly surprised.

The next song began to play. This one was much more intense. Mello beckoned Matt where to go. Forward, side, back, back, forward, side. Matt no longer stared at Mello's feet. They locked eyes and Mello's cheeks lit up. He hated when Matt looked at him; it only tormented him. He had always had strange feelings for Matt, which he suppressed to the best of his ability. But, when Matt looked at him, Mello's heart fluttered.

They twisted and turned in perfect harmony, Matt's eyes never left Mello's. He tried to avert his contact, but it always wandered back to his eyes. A mixture of the passionate music and Matt's beautiful eyes was intoxicating. Matt leaned closer; their bodies almost touched. Mello flushed, trying to suppress his desires.

After a few more songs, Ms. Monroe demanded they find girls to dance with. Matt causally let go of Mello and held his hand out to another girl. It was as if those moments had meant nothing; that gaze that Mello tried so desperately to ignore was just a tease. Matt didn't care for Mello like he cared for him. Mello suddenly wished he had a bar of chocolate to comfort him.

Later on that night, Mello pulled off his shirt to get ready for bed. There was a sudden knock at his door. He grumbled, annoyed that someone was bothering him before he went to bed.

"What?" he snapped as he flung the door open.

Matt stood in the door. "Hey."

"Hey," Mello cleared his throat, opening his door wider. "Are you bored or something?"

"Yeah," Matt answered and stepped into the room.

The two stood quietly, staring at each other. The silence was unbearable. "What the fuck do you want, Matt?"

Matt pulled a tape from his pocket and twiddled it. Before Mello could ask what it was, Matt slipped the casset into the deck and pressed play. Dramatic tango music filled Mello's room and his stomach dropped.

"Relax," Matt chuckled. "You're turning white. I just want to practice for the dance, no big deal. Please, Mello? I want to dance with Keri, but I'm still not too good at it. Can I lead this time?"

Jealousy boiled in the pit of Mello's stomach. Matt really knew how to drive him crazy. "Yeah, whatever."

Matt's fingers slinked around Mello's bare stomach and he pulled him close. Mello gulped and stared at the floor as Matt began to step. Now he was really mad; not only did Matt come to his room to use him to get a girl, but he was making Mello follow. Mello was not one to be controlled. Each step Matt took was painfully slow, not matching the rhythm.

"How am I doing?" Matt asked, biting his lip as he took a step towards Mello.

"Fine," Mello sighed, taking a step back.

The song ended and lead to a softer, much more romantic song. Matt stopped; his hand hung awkwardly on Mello's chest. Before Mello could say anything, Matt drew him in closer and placed his hand on Mello's shoulder. Mello gazed at him, puzzled. Wasn't the point for Matt to practice leading? Yet, he submissively put his hand on Mello's shoulder, waiting for him to lead.

"Matt?"

"It was better when you led."

Mello embraced him, wrapping his arm tightly around his waist. So Matt felt the same as Mello did. They locked eyes; this time Mello was not afraid. They began to dance fluidly with the music. Matt pressed his cheek against Mello's. They continued to dance, the passionate music carried them away. Every move they made harmonized perfectly; where Mello went, Matt followed. And that's how it would be from then on.


End file.
